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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIE 



THE HOUSE OF FRIENDSHIP 



The House of 
Friendship 



BY 

AGNES EDWARDS r 




& dMnvi-tb, J&^ctv^j 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

1915 



■& 



^ 

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COPYRIGHT, I913 AND 1915, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



SEP 13 1915 

CLA410429 






^r 

* 



CONTENTS 



3 



i, 
ii. 
in. 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XL 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 

XV. 

XVI. 

XVII. 

XVIII. 

XIX. 

XX. 



Reforming your Friends . 
Pity and Sentimentalism . 
What they said they wanted 
The People in our own Town . 
Selfish and Unselfish Friendship 
Social and Business Relationships 

Euphemism 

People we are afraid of 
The Men that Women like . 

Home Truths 

Feeling Sorry for Other People 
Snobbishness . 
The Point of Contact 
Dr. Brown 

The American Idea . 
Shop- Windows . 

Heroes and Comedians of Life 
Keeping a Friend 
The Meddlesome Woman 
There is always Something Else 
( v ) 



3 
6 

9 

12 

18 

21 

24 
27 
30 
33 
36 

39 
42 

46 

4S 

5i 

54 
56 
59 



Contents 



XXI. The Disapproving Attitude . , . .61 
XXII. The Alarmist 65 

XXIII. Broken Promises 67 

XXIV. The Impulsive Woman . . . . f 70 
XXV. Unique Experiences 73 






The House of Friendship 
<& i *> 

REFORMING YOUR FRIENDS 

Reforming your friends — it can't be done. 
If you do reform them they cease to be your 
friends, and become your satellites — or your 
enemies. 

It is a curious trait in some women to be 
perfectly unable to keep their hands off any- 
body. The more they love you, the more they 
want to reform you. They want to make you 
sympathetic or serious-minded or interested in 
politics. From the highest and most disinter- 
ested motives in the world they want to man- 
age your affairs. 

They feel perfectly confident that if you would 
take their advice,\your children would all be 
healthy, your husband would renew his youth, 
your servants would stay, and that you would 
cut a dash in society. 

There are women who as soon as they come 

(3) 



The House of Friendship 



into your house tell you how to rehang your 
pictures, and suggest ways to simplify your 
housekeeping. These women are all right : they 
are splendid managers, and they ought to be in 
positions of authority where they would have 
some chance for their powers of organization 
and reformation. But in private life they are 
terrors. They are magnificent as masters, but 
impossible as friends. 

A friendship is one of the most precious things 
in the world, and like all precious things it can- 
not be too delicately handled. What do you 
seek in your own friends? You want sympathy, 
understanding, affection, mutual interests. You 
get incredible comfort in just knowing that there 
is some one who rejoices in your happiness and 
sorrows in your grief, who really cares what hap- 
pens to you and what you do. If you want com- 
pany, you go to your friends, and if you want 
advice, you go to them, and we all want advice 
sometimes. But none of us wants our private af- 
fairs seized with a rough hand and whipped into 
shape. They are our own private affairs, and, al- 
though some one else might get them into better 

(4) 



The House of Friendship 



shape than we ever could, yet most of us have 
an unreasonable preference for doing it our own 
way. There is nothing that the average, self-re- 
specting person resents so heartily as being bul- 
lied, and managed and dictated to. 

Why not enjoy our friends instead of trying 
to reform them ? To be sure, that household 
keeps outrageous hours, and you are morally 
certain that if they went to bed at ten o'clock 
and had breakfast at eight, instead of retiring at 
one o'clock and eating breakfast on their way 
to the front gate, they would be healthier and 
happier. So they would, but they will never do 
it for all your protestations. The best thing you 
can do is to see that your own family get to bed 
at ten, and accept the other family as they are. 
And maybe, some day, seeing how happy and 
healthy your family is, or wishing to please you 
because of their genuine affection, they will re- 
form themselves. 

If you just remain an unobtrusive and loyal 
old standby, your influence will count for some- 
thing, and some day you may be surprised to 
know of the difference you have made in the 

(5) 



"The House of Friendship 



lives of all who know you. But you cannot do 
it by starting in with hammer and tongs to 
make the world go around the other way. It 
will never do it — never — and you will just 
have to give it up at last, very tired, and no one 
will care in the least. 

<$■ 2 •£> 
PITY AND SENTIMENTALISM 

Women are frequently accused of being sen- 
timentalists, and one of the most usual ways that 
this sentimentalism is displayed is in morbid 
sympathy. It is a well-known fact that as soon 
as a man is legally condemned as a criminal, let- 
ters and gifts and tokens of condolence from 
women begin to deluge him. He might have 
been a hard-working, respectable citizen for 
forty years, and no one would be in the least 
interested in him. But let him murder his wife 
and be sentenced to death, and a great wave of 
pity surges through the feminine hearts through- 
out the land. 

Pity is one of the most divine of all human 

(6) 



The House of Friendship 



attributes. There should not be an iota less of it 
in the world. But why treasure it so carefully 
for some spectacular occasion ? Why be unwill- 
ing to release a grain of it unless there is some 
tremendous pressure or some glaringly obvious 
cause? Children catch at gayly colored things, 
and it is the grown people of childish minds who 
cannot feel anything appealing in the dull, gray 
lives of the sober and sad men and women around 
them, but need huge pictures and newspaper 
headlines to indicate to them where calamity 
has struck. 

A hard-working and decent woman who 
sought aid of some charitable organization was 
turned away because it had no committee to 
handle her particular case, and as she departed 
she remarked bitterly that it seemed necessary 
to have committed some horrible sin before 
one could enlist commiseration. 

A new charitable cause is espoused and a 
thousand women rush to its support. After a few 
years the novelty wears off and the women drop 
away — although the need continues and may 
be greater than ever before. The pity given 

( 7 ) 



The House of Friendship 



under an emotional strain is not pity at all ; it 
is a sort of sentimental hysteria. Pity is some- 
thing that sees beneath the superficial appeal to 
the great silent inarticulate need of those who 
are suffering. It reaches out to the stupid and 
blundering as well as to the brilliant and mis- 
guided. It goes out not only in the first flush 
of enthusiasm, but when the flush has died, and 
there is a long blank stretch of weariness and 
discouragement. 

Do you think you are a compassionate wo- 
man? Is your heart so sensitive that the tears 
start to your eyes when you see a lonely little 
child shivering in the cold ? And is it so sensi- 
tive that when your tears have dried you still 
remember the child, and all other children every- 
where who are shivering, too, and are lonely ? 
Is your pity so great that when every one else 
has deserted the woman who is unfortunate, you 
will keep on hoping for her, even if she has lost 
hope for herself? Through dull days and waste 
days is your tenderness still glowing ? Or must 
you have a little stimulus in the way of spec- 
tacular developments or tragic complications ? 

(8) 



The House of Friendship 



Not less pity, but a finer grade of pity — that 
is what we should give. Pity for the one who 
is struggling as well as for the one who has 
struggled and failed. Constructive sympathy 
that helps build up broken lives as well as 
brooding sentimentalism that merely weeps over 
the sorrows of the world. Real pity for real men 
and women — not morbid emotionalism for ab- 
normal unfortunates — this is the pity that the 
world needs. 

* 3 * 

WHAT THEY SAID THEY WANTED 

They were sitting at one of those small 
round tables in a smoky, music-jarred cafe, and 
the man with the tired look around his eyes was 
talking ruminatively : " My wife tries to get me 
to go to concerts with her," he was saying, u but 
I don't like the kind of music you hear at 
fashionable concerts. I 'm not saying that the 
music is n't very fine and all that, but I 'd like to 
hear some old-fashioned tunes. Now, if they 'd 
play c Annie Laurie ' and some of the old bal- 
lads, I 'd enjoy it immensely." 

(9) 



The House of Friendship 



"I know it," agreed the other more elderly 
man ; " I 'm tired of all this new-fangled stuff 
myself. I like a picture you can see. This pres- 
ent-day output that tangles you up whatever 
way you look at it does n't appeal to me." 

They both puffed at their cigars a moment 
and then the man with the tired look around 
his eyes remarked : " I tell you men are sick of 
all this. Why, even the flowers are so fixed up 
and cultivated that you don't know them. What 
do I care for an orchid ? I 'd rather have a hand- 
ful of daisies any day. I 'm not saying my taste 
is better or worse than any one else's; I 'm just 
saying what I 'd like, and what half the men I 
know would like — old-fashioned things : old- 
fashioned music, old-fashioned flowers, and" — 
he smiled a little wistfully — "old-fashioned 
girls." 

The other man smiled, too, and then he re- 
peated thoughtfully: "Yes, old-fashioned girls; 
we 're just sick for them, are n't we ? ' 

Just what those two men meant by old-fash- 
ioned girls is not entirely clear. Being middle- 
aged gentlemen, they were probably going back 

( *° ) 



The House of Friendship 



in their minds to the time when they were young 
men, and the girls they knew embodied — at 
least to them — the graces and charms of all 
femininity. Now, looking out at the world with 
less ardent eyes, they are somewhat aghast 
at their sophisticated daughters and dashing 
daughters-in-law. The breezy girl who shakes 
them by the hand so strenuously that they are 
numb to the elbow for half an hour after, the 
vivacious woman who circles around and around 
them in her animated and epigrammatic talk — 
these had, perhaps, somewhat wearied the two 
gentlemen in the cafe. Then, too, they might 
have been thinking of the type of girl who used 
to please them a good many years ago. They 
might have been recalling, in something of a 
rosy haze, a girl with pink cheeks, smooth hair, 
gentle manners, and quiet voice ; a girl who was 
not extraordinarily clever, but who was sweet, 
just as the simple flowers that grew in mother's 
garden were sweet. 

Few of us want the modern girl to go back 
to the days of her grandmother. We like her 
better as she is ; we enjoy her, we admire her, 

( " ) 



The House of Friendship 



we respect her. But sometimes, perhaps, it does 
no harm to let our minds dwell for a little while 
on that other type of girl — the girl who was 
obedient to her mother, respectful to her father, 
and modest to all the world. Sometimes, per- 
haps, it does no harm to let the conversation of 
the two middle-aged gentlemen come to us 
through the crash and hurly-burly of modern 
life, as it came that day through the noise and 
smoke of the cafe — -to hear the man with the 
tired look around his eyes say wistfully : " What 
half the men I know want is old-fashioned 
things — old-fashioned music, old-fashioned 
flowers, and old-fashioned girls." 

# 4 s> 

THE PEOPLE IN OUR OWN TOWN 

The people we have always known — the 
people in our own town — how fond we are of 
them in a certain comfortable way, and how little 
interest we really feel in them. 

Two girls go to college and become fast 
friends, finding incredible attractiveness in one 

( «) 



The House of Friendship 



another; but had they chanced to come from 
the same town instead of different towns, they 
might never have discovered one another. A 
brother can never see why another fellow should 
fall in love with his sister. " Sister — why, she's 
all right, she's bully, but — " To him there is 
nothing mysterious, nothing elusive or fascinat- 
ing about " Sister." There is solid worth and 
reliability, maybe, but nothing to bewitch, en- 
snare, and captivate. 

And so it is with the people in our neighbor- 
hood. We like them, respect them, and are fond 
of them in an offhand kind of way, but there is 
nothing about them that fires our imagination. 
A striking girl comes visiting from a distant city 
and falls in love with some young man with 
whom we went to school, and we marvel. We 
see nothing romantic about that man : we re- 
member perfectly well when we washed his face 
with snow or saw him in some other ignominious 
plight and jeered at him with all the cruelty of 
youth. And yet here is a girl who finds in him 
the consummation of her ideal! 

Strange ? Yes, and quite natural, too. So often 

( 13 ) 



The House of Friendship 



we credit familiar figures with all the virtues and 
none of the graces, and need a newcomer to point 
out to us the charms of our own neighborhood. 

For there are two ways of knowing people. 
There is the way that comes from constant and 
long association. You know everything about 
your near-by neighbor; how she lives and where 
she lives; you know her family history and the 
outline of her life ; you see her frequently and 
are familiar with the way her clothes are cut and 
the way she sniffs through her nose, and yet you 
have never caught a glimpse of her soul. 

And there is another woman you know in an 
entirely different way. You know practically 
nothing about her daily life, but you feel her 
personality. You meet occasionally and exchange 
ideas ; your affection for each other is genuine, 
and neither of you is hampered by cast-off preju- 
dices. You know the essentials and not the 
non-essentials — you know the woman and not 
merely things about her. 

There are advantages to this dual system. A 
certain restfulness comes with the knowledge 
that your inner life cannot be molested by your 

( 14 ) 



The House of Friendship 



family or your neighbors, because none of them 
takes the trouble to think whether or not you 
have an inner life. 

But here and there are rare people who have 
the genius to appreciate what is near at hand. 
To them all the world is vibrant with interest. 
They see in their next-door neighbor what we 
have to travel the world over to find. But most 
of us — how far afield we go in search of won- 
ders ! Your enchanted land — is it some Italian 
town, some village in Cornwall or in Spain ? Is 
it in snowy Russia or brave Denmark? Could 
it possibly be here, close to you, alive with 
people quaint, or charming, or stimulating, or 
romantic — the people of your own town? 

<* 5 * 

SELFISH AND UNSELFISH FRIENDSHIP 

A friend is fondly supposed to be a comfort, 
a solace, a, joy. We like to believe that our 
friends love us whatever we do, and in what- 
ever way we do it. We think of them as sym- 
pathetic, eager to forward our interests, anxious 

( *5) 



The House of Friendship 



for our happiness. And it is only after a good 
many rude awakenings that we come to the 
rather somber conclusion that this is only true 
of a very few of the people we like to call friends, 
and that a great number of people are just as 
selfish in their friendships as they are in any of 
the other relationships of life. 

Have you never gone for a few days' flying 
trip to some other city, and having a limited 
time at your disposal, or some important busi- 
ness to do, you have not let your friends know 
of your whereabouts ? One of them chances 
upon you on the street, and instead of welcom- 
ing you she immediately begins to scold you 
because you did not come and stay with her. 
After you have meekly listened and offered 
your explanation, you leave her, feeling very 
sorry instead of very glad that you happened 
to meet. Perhaps you run into another, are 
scolded again, and finally you leave the city feel- 
ing a great deal more uncomfortable than if you 
had met four or five of your worst enemies 
instead of your best friends. 
- The same thing holds true of letter-writing. 

( 16 ) 



"The House of Friendship 



How frequently we receive letters from our 
friends containing brief news and long re- 
proaches for our not writing. What pleasure is 
there in either sending or receiving such epistles ? 
The people who get offended because you do 
not call, who take it as a personal affront because 
you cannot accept invitations — what trials they 
are ! 

We want to feel that our friends love us as 
we are, and that they believe that we love them. 
If they do not understand why we do or do not 
do things, at least they believe that we have 
some adequate reason. The friend who never 
questions, who never scolds, who is glad to see 
us when we do come and not hurt when we 
cannot come or do not come, is one of the 
compensations of life. She is thinking of our 
happiness and convenience and not of her own. 
She is unselfish in her friendship. 

Yes, we all know the kind of a friend we like. 
What kind of a friend are you ? 



( 17 ) 



The House of Friendship 



<a o -s> 

SOCIAL AND BUSINESS RELATIONSHIPS 

Women to-day are going into the public and 
professional life that was formerly entered only 
by men, and, therefore, they should learn some 
of the things which men have long known. One 
of these is not to confuse social and business 
relationships. 

It is not so much in regard to her actions 
that the average woman needs enlightenment, 
but it is in regard to her point of view. We all 
know that the stenographer who slides from her 
position as stenographer into one of confidential 
friend of her employer is doing an unwise thing. 
She is paid to write his letters, not to listen to 
his domestic troubles or advise him about his 
clothes and boarding-place. There is something 
peculiarly under-bred in flirting with the men 
one meets in a purely business way, and in try- 
ing to get on a social footing when it is work 
and not play that furnishes the opportunity. 
Most intelligent women realize this, and let 
their relationships with the men they meet rest 

( 18) 



The House of Friendship 



just where the natural circumstances throw 
them. 

But regulating one's actions is always easier 
than changing one's point of view, and it is on 
the point of view that many women fail. For 
instance, a woman goes to hear some well-known 
man lecture. "What do you think of him?" 
asks her husband. "Oh, I think he is horrid," 
she replies; "he uses bad grammar, and his coat 
was so dusty it was a disgrace." She entirely for- 
gets that she went to hear a public man lecture, 
not to meet a social friend. It was the man's 
speech and individuality, not his superficial char- 
acteristics, that should matter in this instance. 

" I always liked to read Chesterton until I 
heard that he ate with his knife," a woman said 
the other day. Now the fact that Chesterton 
does or does not eat with his knife has little to 
do with his essays. You may be interested in 
this bit of biographical information, but it need 
not affect your enjoyment of his writings. Of 
course, if you are asked to dine with him, you 
may refuse, if you consider that he is not in 
your social stratum. 

( ^9) 



The House of Friendship 



th 



ini 



What people are socially is a very r< 
but it is not the only thing. There are many 
other qualities that go to make up a human 
personality, and if you are not intelligent enough 
to perceive them, you will lose a great deal in 
this world. 

We should all learn to meet people on other 
grounds than those of class : to think of them 
as standing for this or that principle or idea, as 
pegs on which to hang our plans, or characters 
in our day's drama, or as human beings strug- 
gling toward very much the same end that we 
ourselves are struggling toward, but not only and 
solely as presentable or unpresentable ballroom 
decorations. We should accept them for what 
they are, where they are, and not toss them aside 
because they are not in our particular class. If 
they are good of their own class, — no matter 
what that class is, — they are as admirable and 
as interesting as any one else. 

Remember that the social ground on which 
to meet one's fellows is a very narrow one. We 
may keep it as narrow as we please, if we do 
not forget that it is not everything there is. Do 

( 20) 



The House of Friendship 



not confuse social and business relationships. 
Learn to meet people on other grounds. 

<& 7 s> 

EUPHEMISM 

It is characteristic of most of us to be euphe- 
mistic in regard to ourselves. We veil our dis- 
agreeable qualities with as pleasant terms as we 
can. We are "sensitive/' not " touchy " ; we are 
"vivacious/' not "noisy." We insist patheti- 
cally that our disagreeableness is " frankness/' 
and our crankiness " nerves." 

Euphemism is an excellent habit. There are 
so many undisguisably harsh things in the world 
that we should be grateful to any one who 
smooths off the rough corners, or permits only 
a subdued light to fall on glaring faults. But 
the trouble with many euphemistically inclined 
persons is that they only use the art in regard 
to themselves. Thus, when they are dull they 
call it pensive, but when you are dull they call 
it sulky. And that is exasperating. 

There are always two ways of judging any- 

( « ) 



The House of Friendship 



thing. Sometimes there are twenty, but always 
there are two. And if you want to be happy, 
you will learn to judge in the most kindly and 
most merciful way. Since we cannot know, in 
the last analysis, the exact motive for any action, 
why not think the best instead of the worst ? 

Your neighbor's daughter may not live at 
home because she does not like her mother or 
because her mother does not like her ; but she 
may not live at home because the climate does 
not agree with her, or because she can earn 
more money and do more for the household by 
living somewhere else. There are a dozen rea- 
sons why she may not live at home, and since 
you are not going to do anything about it, any- 
way, but are so constituted that you cannot rest 
until you have decided — why not decide upon 
the most euphemistic probability ? 

The other day a big automobile ran into a 
little one and nearly killed the two boys in the 
latter. The ladies in the big touring-car were so 
sensitive that they nearly fainted, and demanded 
instant and prolonged attention upon recovery. 
Later, when the case was brought up in court, 

(22) 



The House of Friendship 



much stress was laid upon the sensitiveness of 
the ladies and their nervous shock. The condi- 
tion of the mother of the injured boys never 
seemed to occur to them, and yet one might 
reasonably expect a truly sensitive person to 
recognize other people's nerves as well as his 
own. 

Listen to a mother describe her child. You 
always thought the boy a loutish, clumsy, un- 
practical chap, but she tells you with glowing 
eyes that he is gentle, and strong, and full of 
idealism. Which is right? The mother, of 
course. The one who loves us the best always 
understands us the mostsearchingly. Our friends 
and not our enemies are truest judges. 

Euphemism should be cultivated, not discour- 
aged. But it should be cultivated to make the 
complete circle. Call your morbidness " interest 
in the psychological " if you wish. Maybe it is. 
At all events, we can give it the benefit of the 
doubt. But call your neighbor's tendency by 
the same polite term. That is only fair. 



( 23 ) 



The House of Friendship 



# 8 * 

PEOPLE WE ARE AFRAID OF 

You admit that if you should be introduced 
to the King of England, you might be embar- 
rassed. You will probably agree that if you 
suddenly met a hungry cannibal, you would be 
afraid. But if any one should ask you how 
many other people you were afraid of, you 
would reply glibly, " Why, nobody. " Yet the 
fact of the matter is that all of us but the most 
courageous are most miserably under the ty- 
ranny of an entire class of people, just as com- 
pletely as the serfs were under the tyranny of 
their overlords. To explain : — 

A young woman in a restaurant will study 
the menu card for several minutes and finally 
timidly suggest to the condescending waitress 
that she would like a certain twenty-five-cent 
dish. The waitress takes the order disdainfully, 
and the young woman, ashamed of seeming 
stingy, hurriedly caps it by asking for a forty- 
cent dessert. She really does not want a sixty- 
five-cent luncheon and she cannot afford it, but 

( 24) 



The House of Friendship 



she is so shaken by the haughty scorn of the 
waitress that she orders it and chokes it down, 
and with it her feeling of rebellion. 

Has your heart never gone out in sympathy 
to some customer who, completely unnerved 
by the saleswoman's lofty " Of course, you 
cannot get any smart hat for less than fifteen 
dollars/' murmurs eagerly," Oh, of course not." 
She knows that she can afford to spend three 
dollars and fifty cents for her hat, and she has 
a miserable feeling that the saleswoman, for all 
her grand air, knows it, too, and so after a polite 
hesitation she frames some patent excuse and 
fades vaguely away. 

We think it very funny when some girl tells 
us about the agonies she suffered when she was 
visiting and the imperious lady's-maid unpacked 
her suitcase and discovered the meagerness and 
general inelegance of her night apparel. But we 
do not think it so funny when the desk-man at 
a hotel looks at us contemptuously and says 
incredulously, "A dollar room?" We falter 
hastily: "Oh, no. Something — alittle — agood 
deal — a little better than that, please"; and 

( ^5 ) 



The House of Friendship 



then despise ourselves for being so easily in- 
fluenced. 

It is not funny. It is acutely painful. Perhaps 
we could break away from this thralldom — 
which is no chimera, but a reality, with the dire 
results of a flattened pocketbook and an extreme 
irritation — if we remembered that these men and 
women to whom we are in such abject sub- 
servience are not really dukes and duchesses, 
but merely quite commonplace mortals, and 
perfectly familiar with the process of trying to 
make one dollar do the work of two. 

The saleswoman who assures you that you 
cannot buy a hat for less than fifteen dollars prob- 
ably pays a dollar-ninety-eight for hers, if she 
pays that much. That impressive waiter does 
not order squab for his own dinner. The bored 
aristocrat at the theater box-office would not 
buy orchestra seats if he were going to witness 
the performance. Let us stand together, pluck 
up our courage and look them squarely in the 
eye, and say firmly, cc I want the best I can get 
for the money, and this is all the money I have. ,, 
Perhaps we shall find them human, after all. 

( * ) 



The House of Friendship 



Perhaps we can free ourselves from this an- 
cient and ignominious bondage, and begin to 
save our money and to get what we really want. 

<a 9 s> 
THE MEN THAT WOMEN LIKE 

There is a very prevalent theory that women 
— even nice women — prefer " men of the world " 
to solid, respectable ones. This theory is usually 
advanced by some elderly lady who shudders 
with fear and horror at the mere sight of any 
but the mildest manifestations of the male species, 
or by some unprepossessing youth who fails to 
get the girl he wants and sees some fellow whom 
he considers his mental or moral inferior dash 
in and win the day. 

And women rarely refute the accusation. 
They confess covertly to themselves that the 
so-called worldly men of their acquaintance are 
rather more attractive than the others, and there- 
fore they accept the criticism as true. But if they 
would think about it a little they would soon 
discover just what it is they like in men. A del- 

( 27) 



The House of Friendship 



icately minded girl does not like a man because 
he is a roue, but she likes many of the quali- 
ties that such a man takes time to cultivate, and 
that the other type of man does not. 

Too frequently the young man with a char- 
acter of pure gold is so flagrantly careless about 
his appearance and the small courtesies that a 
well-bred girl, who knows how things should 
be done, cannot enjoy his society. She might 
be glad when she is fifty that she had married 
a high-minded scholar and a man of integrity, 
and if he had won distinction in some field of 
letters or of business no one would mind if he 
were a little rusty or untidy. But when she is 
twenty, the average girl takes small pleasure in 
entertaining or being entertained by a man who 
neglects to have his shoes polished, his clothes 
pressed, or his hair cut. She is irritated when 
he forgets her tastes or ignores her foibles, and 
lets her hunt up her own chair or pay her own 
car-fare. 

For the sophisticated man never forgets the 
little things. He dresses carefully and spotlessly, 
knowing that the ugliest man can be attractive 

(28 ) 



The House of Friendship 



if he carries himself with dignity and takes 
time to attend to the details that mark the dif- 
ference between the prepossessing gentleman and 
the unpresentable person. The sophisticated 
man is — outwardly, at least — thoughtful, con- 
siderate, and charming. He may not spend more 
time or more money than another, but whenever 
he does a thing he does it so exquisitely that any 
woman must be delighted. He knows that no 
attention is too small to be gracefully rendered 
if one would please a woman, and if he only 
pays her car-fare he does it as if it were such 
a privilege that even that small attention becomes 
the sweetest flattery. 

No, nice women do not prefer men who are 
not nice. They prefer charming men to boors, 
and entertaining men to bores. But the girl of 
to-day is too sensible to prefer a dissipated man 
to a temperate one, or a roue to an honorable 
gentleman. 

And the girl of to-day is too resourceful, also, 
to be utterly dependent upon any man. Much 
as she enjoys men's society, she is perfectly able 
to get along without either the fascinating ad- 

( 29 ) 



The House of Friendship 



venturer of unsavory repute, or the blunderer 
who forgets his manners, or who is unwilling to 
spend any money or any time in giving her 
happiness or any effort to learn what would 
please her, 

<& 10 s> 

HOME TRUTHS 

Home truths are a peculiar body of facts. 
Every real family has a more or less voluminous 
accumulation of them — the accumulation of 
each family being very like that of every other 
family in main outline, but elaborated to fit 
various situations and idiosyncrasies. 

Probably since earliest history small brothers 
have thought their older sisters "stuck-up/' and 
older sisters thought their small brothers "rude." 
And probably since earliest history they have 
voiced their opinions in extremely simple, direct 
Saxon terms. 

But, like many other old-fashioned things, 
home truths seem to have fallen into disrepute 
of late. This does not mean that they are not 

(30 ) 



The House of Friendship 



offered with the same eagerness and emphasis as 
of yore, but that nowadays it is the fashion for 
them to be disdainfully repudiated by the should- 
be recipient. For instance, if a young girl is as- 
sured by her friends that she is delightfully 
vivacious, and when her mother tells her gravely 
that it is not vivacity but pertness, the young 
girl is very apt to toss her head, — vivaciously 
or pertly according to whichever standard you 
accept, — and, remarking that her mother does 
not "understand her," seek the consolation of 
more admiring friends. The young man who 
glories in his reputation among his associates 
for being "temperamental" allows the unkind 
definition of " grumpiness " in his family circle 
to slip inconspicuously off his shoulders. A 
woman who likes to think she is an accom- 
plished coquette disbelieves a disgusted family 
when they remark she is a vulgar flirt. 

Home truths must have a great deal of vi- 
tality to persist after so many years of cold recep- 
tion and scanty entertainment. But they have 
vitality, and they will always exist as long as the 
human family endures. The reason is simple. 

(31 ) 



The House of Friendship 



The family is the most indestructible organ- 
ization in the world. The true family is bound 
together by ties nearer and dearer than any 
other ties on earth. 

Your family loves you, not because you are 
clever or beautiful or agreeable, but simply be- 
cause you are yourself, and its affection is the 
most disinterested affection there is. In spite 
of the unkind tartness of many home truths, 
they are, as a rule, largely prompted by love, 
and therefore they deserve more credence than 
they usually get. Have you never thought, 
when you heard an hysterical woman making 
herself conspicuous in some silly way, that, if 
she had listened to the unflattering criticism of 
some scoffing brother instead of to the flattery 
of other women as silly as she, she might have 
saved herself from being a spectacle that is both 
ridiculous and pathetic? 

The brother who derides his sister's foibles 
does not do it altogether from a love of teas- 
ing, but because it irritates him to see her mak- 
ing herself absurd. The mother who insists that 
her young son wash his hands and wipe his feet 

(3* ) 



The House of Friendship 



does not do so because she loves to nag, but 
because she wants him to grow up to be man- 
nerly instead of mannerless ; while the outsiders 
who encourage the girl in her frivolity and the 
boy in his rowdyism merely do it for their own 
amusement. 

Home truths are the real truths. Do not 
despise them because you can hear pleasanter 
things elsewhere. Do not think that your fam- 
ily do not understand you. They understand 
you well enough. And they not only under- 
stand, but they really care — and that is why 
the home truth is the most valuable truth you 
are likely to hear. 

<s II & 

FEELING SORRY FOR OTHER PEOPLE 

cc Would n't you think that the woman who 
passes out coupons in a subway entrance all day 
would be so sick of it that she would want to 
commit suicide ? " says one girl to another as 
they pass through the turnstile. 

" The person I always pity is the waitress in 

( 33) 



The House of Friendship 



a restaurant," replies the other. " Think of 
feeding people and feeding people and feeding 
people forever and ever and ever, in the clash 
of china and the smell of soup! Why, it nau- 
seates me just to think of it ! " 

There are few things we are more generous 
about than pitying people whose occupation 
would be distasteful to us. The thought, of the 
woman who shampoos head after head day in 
and day out, and of the chorus girl who capers 
and giggles night after night, are both appalling 
to the housewife as her daily duties of cooking 
and cleaning and sewing would be to either of 
them. 

Have you ever wondered how that actress 
could play the same part over and over again ? 
Or how this shop girl can be obliging to the 
continual stream of shoppers who are " not 
quite sure just what they do want"? 

Let us console ourselves with the reflection 
that there seems to be some law of adjustment 
that fits each one of us for the work we have 
to do. The spangled lady in pink tights who 
leaps through hoops at the circus regards the 

( 34) 



"The House of Friendship 



gaudy tawdriness of her surroundings with the 
same naturalness and matter-of-factness as the 
stenographer regards her typewriter or the 
busy mother regards the faces of her children. 
Some women would be horribly bored if they 
had to go to teas and dinner-parties all the 
time, and others would be horribly bored if 
they had to teach mathematics all the time. 
And yet both debutantes and school teachers 
seem passably contented with their respective 
lots. 

Another thing that may relieve the sensibil- 
ities of the abnormally sympathetic is to remem- 
ber that there is always much in the experience 
of others that we know nothing about. The 
girl who apparently passes her entire life shov- 
ing coupons across the marble slab in the sub- 
way turnstile has a complete existence outside 
the circle of that narrow cage. She may sing in 
her church choir; she may go to occasional 
dances ; she may sew on her clothes, entertain 
young men, belong to a club that meets weekly 
for candy-making and good time. Her work 
gives the backbone to life and is the most im- 

(35 ) 



The House of Friendship 



portant feature of her day: but it is not the 
whole of life nor all of the day. 

We should never pity people who have work 
to do. The lot of an overworked seamstress 
may be more enviable than that of an idle so- 
ciety bud. Your shampoo girl and your telephone 
girl and your painted chorus girl are probably 
none of them bored with their occupations. 
They may be perfectly happy and probably are. 
It is a waste of emotion to feel sorry for people 
simply because they are doing things that would 
be dull or tedious or difficult for us. Do you 
have any one to feel sorry for you? Of course 
you don't. So work the rule backward. 

<$ 12 £> 
SNOBBISHNESS 

Have you ever watched people wandering 
through an art gallery, admiring the various 
objects and commenting on the various artists 
— their lives, their genius, their achievements ? 
And have you ever remembered that when 
those artists were alive, the very same class and 

(36) 



The House of Friendship 



type of person which now reverences them 
probably scorned them, laughed at them, or at 
best ignored them ? And then have you ever 
thought that to-day there are artists with the 
same love and appreciation of beauty, the same 
desire to express that love, and that they, also, 
are scorned, laughed at, and ignored ? 

Most people only accept genius after it has 
been officially and formally accepted by the 
world ; they only recognize greatness after they 
have been told that it is greatness. They have 
no genuine response in their hearts or in their 
brains for what is noble and true ; they only have 
a veneer of cultivation and a desire to appear 
intelligent. 

The same attitude is assumed in all directions. 
The social snob sees no charm in any one who 
was not born into a certain " set." The intellec- 
tual snob sees nothing interesting in any one 
who has not an education similar to his own. 
The moral snob sees no goodness but the kind 
of goodness he professes. 

There is something indescribably contempti- 
ble in the attitude of the average person to- 

(37 ) 



The House of Friendship 



ward genius which, maybe, is too uneven ever 
to be successful, toward beauty which is too ir- 
regular ever to be popular, toward goodness 
which is too simple ever to be conspicuous. 

Bound by convention, unable to form an in- 
dependent judgment, incapable of standing by 
that judgment if it were formed, thousands and 
thousands go to watch worthless plays, listen 
to cheap music, read poor literature, just because 
they have never learned to make any standards 
of their own or to respect their instinctive 
standards. 

The snob is one of the most ignoble of hu- 
man creatures ; he swims upon the tide of other 
men's convictions and reasons. The most ex- 
quisite beauty is a blank to him unless it has 
the stamp of respectable approval upon it. The 
most saintly life is meaningless to him unless it 
is conventionally effective. 

If you are not a snob, if you have real dis- 
cernment, you will recognize talent — potential, 
perhaps, but none the less real — in the most 
pitiful of apparent failures. You will see beauty 
where others see only ugliness. You will know 

(38 ) 



The House of Friendship 



that the meanest man has the possibility of be- 
ing a hero — although perhaps only for one su- 
preme moment — and the lowest woman a saint. 
But snobbishness is deep in the human heart. 
Two thousand years ago a prophet was not 
without honor save in his own country. And, 
regardless of the hidden treasures which lie 
everywhere around them, men and women still 
complain at the world's paucity and stretch out 
their empty hands to the gold at the end of the 
rainbow. 

« 13 *> 

THE POINT OF CONTACT 

Don't you know how you occasionally glance 
at a magazine article, and although the subject 
may be one which has never interested you be- 
fore, yet something in this particular treatment 
of it immediately catches and holds your atten- 
tion ? In the same way there are some people 
whom you always enjoy listening to, no matter 
what topic they discuss. Some teachers can take 
the dry bones of any subject and so clothe them 

(39) 



The House of Friendship 



in living flesh that you are spellbound by their 
magnetism. What is it that makes some matter 
readable, some people interesting, some argu- 
ments persuasive ? What is this trick that first 
catches the other man's attention and finally 
wins his consent? It is no trick at all, but a 
well-recognized principle which all successful 
lawyers, ministers, writers, teachers, and con- 
versationalists have mastered to greater or less 
extent, either consciously or not. Pedagogists 
call it the point of contact, and it is the first 
step in the art or the science of persuasion. 

If you want to get a man over to your way 
of thinking, the first thing to do is to establish 
a point of contact. Get his point of view for a 
few minutes; go with him in his line of thought 
for a while, and then, when he is in a comply- 
ing and acquiescent mood, gently lead him into 
the path which you choose. 

A mother wants to make her little boy stop 
using slang. She can say for years, "Tommy, 
I do wish you would stop using slang," and it 
will have as much effect as whistling to the 
wind. By using sufficient emphasis she can 

(40) 



The House of Friendship 



make Tommy stop using slang in her immedi- 
ate presence, just as she can shut the wind out 
of her immediate room ; but she cannot be any 
more sure that he is not using slang when he is 
out of earshot than she can be sure that the 
wind has stopped blowing. If she really wants 
to get at the heart of the matter and to uproot 
the habit permanently, she must go at it in an 
entirely different way. She must try and under- 
stand just why Tommy uses slang. Does he 
think it is smart, or does he do it to be like the 
other boys? Is it a habit or is it perverseness ? 
She must first get in line with Tommy's angle 
of view, and then argue from that. And unless 
this point of contact is established, all argument 
is utterly futile, for Tommy will not listen, and 
will not be persuaded. 

We all want to make our appeal to various 
people for various purposes at some time or 
other. If you are a teacher, you must get the 
children's interest before you can begin to teach ; 
if you are in business, you must get your asso- 
ciates' attention before you can commence ne- 
gotiations. The parent who simply commands 

i (41 ) 



"The House of Friendship 



without taking the trouble to persuade loses 
power over his children just as soon as they are 
old enough to throw off that command. 

To win a woman to your side, you must first 
put yourself in her place, and then gradually 
work back with her to your place. If you do 
not do this, all your eloquence and rhetoric and 
erudition go for naught, and you can hammer 
at her head for a year with no more effect than 
if it were a head of cast-iron. Get the other 
person's angle of perception, establish your 
point of contact, and with this as a starting- 
place, you stand a good chance of carrying your 
opponent over into whatever camp you choose. 

<8- 14 %> 
DR. BROWN 

Dentistry is hardly a subject which recalls 
to our minds pleasurable sensations of any kind. 
We anticipate a visit to the dentist's with shud- 
dering unwillingness. We pass through it with 
anguish, and we remember it with lively bitter- 
ness. There is probably no process tolerated by 

■ ( 42 ) 



The House of Friendship 



civilization which is so fraught with deliberate 
pain as having a tooth filled or a nerve treated 
or any other of those dear familiar operations. 
Therefore, when a dentist succeeds in beguiling 
his patient into a fairly unrebellious state, we may 
admit that he has done wonders. 

There is a certain dentist who has done this 
very thing, and his secret is one which would 
open the doors of success to many other than the 
dental regions. You must first understand that 
this dentist — we will call him Dr. Brown — 
does excellent actual work. There is no mild 
placing of a filling upon a tooth and then po- 
litely informing one that all is well. He goes 
through every grewsome step down to its minu- 
test and most harrowing detail with thorough- 
ness and precision. He is, in short, an excellent 
dentist. But the reason that his doors are crowded 
is not merely because of the superfine quality 
of his technique, but because of his personality, 
and through this he has accomplished the mir- 
acle of almost painless dentistry. 

What is personality? What more than one's 
point of view working out through the medium 

(43 ) 



The House of Friendship 



of manner, voice, and gesture ? Dr. Brown, in 
spite of the fact that he sees a dozen or so 
wretched victims daily, still remembers that each 
one is an individual capable of just as intense 
suffering as if he were the only person alive. 
He still remembers to say, " Ah, I am sorry," 
in a tone of deep solicitude at each twist of dis- 
comfort. He still remembers to give warning 
of any sudden impending calamity like a sharp, 
shooting pain or a new and hideous sound. In 
brief, he treats each patient with a gentleness 
and care that spreads an almost cozy atmosphere 
over the whole performance. You feel as if 
some one who really cared for your slightest 
twinge were close beside you, comforting you ; 
— not as if you had been flung out to writhe in 
misery in blank loneliness. 

And your mental attitude becomes so much 
less rebellious and so much more grateful, that 
unconsciously your muscles relax and you find 
yourself enduring the ordeal with approximate 
equanimity. 

It is simply that Dr. Brown takes your point 
of view instead of insisting upon his own. The 

(44) 



The House of Friendship 



usual attitude of the average dentist suggests : 
" Come, come, it must be gone through. Of 
course, I don't want to hurt you any more than 
I have to, but you '11 probably survive as others 
have survived before you." But Dr. Brown is 
not like this. Each time an aching void in the 
guise of a grudgingly opened mouth is revealed 
to him, he instantly catches the struggles of the 
patient's mind, and as instantly makes them his 
own, working with them instead of against 
them. 

. Sympathetic his patients call it; a good busi- 
ness asset the cynical might remark. But, at all 
events, it works, and works beautifully, and Dr. 
Brown is a successful man. 

The other fellow's point of view — there is 
nothing like it for making one popular socially 
or financially. How does the other fellow feel? 
What does the other fellow want ? What is it 
that the other fellow considers important, de- 
sirable, worth paying for ? Figure it out ; make 
it your own, too ; surely this is one of the secrets 
of success. 



( 45 ) 



The House of Friendship 



<& 15 -e> 

THE AMERICAN IDEA 

He was only eight years old, and his mother 
was ill. He was commissioned to carry her up 
a bowl of broth, which he did with great care 
and precision. She thanked him, and then said 
rather wistfully, looking around the empty room: 
"Won't you stay with me half an hour, dear? 
There may be some errands you can do for me. M 
He gave her a searching glance as if to deter- 
mine whether she really needed his services or 
merely desired his company, and then answered 
firmly : " Mother, I am very busy to-day. I 
can't possibly spare you fifteen minutes." Prob- 
ably the mother's laugh as she surveyed his 
small important face and serious, diminutive fig- 
ure did her more good than all her medicine, 
but the fact remains that he was only eight, and 
the Great American Idea of being busy had 
already lodged itself securely in his mind. 

We, too, laugh at the little boy ; but what are we 
but children of larger growth ? How many actions, 
graceful or comforting, how many pleasantries 

(46) 






The House of Friendship 



we omit and curtail because we Cf are very busy, 
and can't possibly spare fifteen minutes ! " The 
always busy person can never spare the time to 
do anything. She is perpetually hurried, and per- 
petually hurrying. She reminds us of a squirrel in 
a cage — around and around and around again, 
and what is accomplished when all is done ? 

Work is the great salvation, but being busy 
does not necessarily mean work accomplished. 
The people who give the most maddening and 
persistent impression of bustle are not those 
who turn out the greatest amount of actual 
achievement. 

Driving one's self and others is due, not to 
pressure of work that must be done, but to a 
state of mind. 

The little boy of eight who did not see how 
he could possibly spare fifteen minutes for his 
mother is no more absurd than plenty of his 
older prototypes. 

Dawdling is a sin, but scrambling through life 
with not a moment to lose is no virtue. The 
only compensation in the situation is that the 
woman who hurries so earnestly all the time will 

(47 ) 



The House of Friendship 



soon have no other distractions, for nobody will 
care whether she stops or not. 

How laughable — how ridiculous is the pic- 
ture of the little boy remarking with all the im- 
portance of a bank president: "I can't possibly 
spare you fifteen minutes." But what about 
ourselves? Is our occupation of such vital con- 
sideration that the world will crack if we pause 
for a brief breathing spell ? Are we laughable, 
too, sometimes, when with worried brows and 
serious voice we insist regretfully : " So sorry — 
but I can't possibly do it. You see, I could n't 
spare even fifteen minutes"? 

<a 1 6 s> 

SHOP-WINDOWS 

There are few sights more fascinating than 
a beautifully and skillfully arranged shop-win- 
dow. Window-dressing has become an art and 
a science within the last decade, with books 
written about it, and lectures delivered to sales- 
people concerning it; with results from which 
we all derive much pleasure. 

(48) 



The House of Friendship 



And one of the principles applied to shop- 
windows might very aptly be applied to many 
a young girl, who, like the shopkeeper, wishes 
to display her wares and to lure in the possible 
shopper. It would, obviously, be extremely 
short-sighted for a shopkeeper to dress up his 
windows with every fine and attractive article 
he had, and to leave his shelves and counters 
bare For even if the would-be customer did 
step in, he would soon find out his mistake 
and step out again, and that would be the end 

of the story. 

And that is the end of the story for many a 
woman who has learned the trick of displaying 
her most attractive qualities at the first roll-up 
of the curtain, and has quite forgotten to keep 
herself well stocked in a good line of substantial 

S °Who does not know the girl who has a smat- 
tering of information along almost every line ? 
She can make a good showing even with the 
truly educated for a short time, and she can 
dazzle the uneducated for a longer time. But 
sooner or later they all find her out. They step 

(49 ) 



The House of Friendship 



inside and see that the window display is not an 
excellent and representative line of samples, 
but is the entire stock. And then they shrug 
their shoulders and say, " Humph, another 
fraud ! " and are done with those goods forever. 

Girls who are sweet-voiced and obliging in 
company, and shrews and viragos at home ; who 
are so neat and frilly on the street, and so un- 
tidy and slatternly when no one is there to see 
— they do a good deal of harm in a superficial 
way, for they cast a slur upon the genuine arti- 
cle, just as a fake shop casts discredit, tempo- 
rarily, upon all the shops in the district. But 
that is not the worst of it — the worst of it is 
the stupidity and short-sightedness of such a 
policy. The more attractive you are, the greater 
mistake you make if you fail in substantial 
qualities. The best advertising in the long run 
is the advertising that tells the truth — tells it 
in as striking and tempting a manner as you 
wish, but really tells it: in other words, adver- 
tising something that is worth buying. 

Being a fraud is the least profitable profession 
in the world. Putting all one's goods into the 

(50) 



The House of Friendship 



shop-window is a business that does not pay. 
You may get your purchasers in — you may 
even relieve them of a few ducats ; but you can- 
not keep them and you cannot make them come 
again. Window-dressing may be an art even 
when it cannot fulfill its promises, but it is 
never a science until it represents a truth. And 
fascinations are a poor advertisement when they 
do not stand for those happy livable qualities 
that make life sweeter instead of merely more 
glittering. 

« 17 -8> 
HEROES AND COMEDIANS OF LIFE 

Some people always look happy, always greet 
us with a smile, always radiate good-will. It 
may be their disposition, or it may be a princi- 
ple with them, or it may even be due to their 
facial contour and features. But whatever it is, 
merely looking at them in a street-car is enough 
to transform a gloomy morning into one of com- 
parative cheerfulness. These individuals might 
be called the Comedians of Life, and to them, 

(51 ) 



The House of Friendship 



as to all comedians, popularity flows easily. 
They assume nothing, ask for nothing; we need 
not talk to them nor listen to them, but when 
they are present we cannot help responding to 
their geniality any more than a drooping flower 
can help responding to the sunlight. 

We all are apt to underestimate the effect 
which we have upon others ; we underestimate 
the force of our character and the receptivity 
of theirs. And yet no one of us can move 
among our fellows without making them sway, 
either toward us or away from us, just as the 
slightest breeze parts and waves the tallest of 
grasses. 

This unconscious influence which we exert so 
constantly is based partly upon our superficial 
characteristics, partly upon our achievements, 
but principally upon our innate natures. Nobil- 
ity of motive, simplicity of thought, directness 
of action, and distinction of character — these 
are what enter into our personalities and make 
them what they are. 

Which of us can ever forget the vivid sensa- 
tion which flashed through us upon seeing or 

(so 



The House of Friendship 



meeting a man or woman about whom our im- 
aginations had woven the purple mantle of 
romance and wonder ? Some great writer, some 
brilliant actor, some celebrated artist whose per- 
sonality seemed to our reeling senses a reflec- 
tion of a divine power ? And standing agape, 
staring impolitely at this marvelous person with 
a thousand thoughts crowding into our brains, 
a .thousand agitations and aspirations shaking 
our hearts, we have gone through an experience 
which left its mark forever upon our memories, 
our hopes, and our ideals. 

We cannot all be geniuses to inspire such 
emotions in those we meet, but whatever we 
are it is concentrated and intensified by our in- 
dividuality, just as the diffuse beams of the sun 
are concentrated by some powerful lens. 

Just as we cannot make our bodies invisible 
by any magical garment, so we cannot conceal 
our natures by any trick of personality. What 
we are shines purely forth, as a light or a lure 
or a warning to every one who passes by. And, 
as the audience in the theater recognizes at once 
the clown, the villain, and the ingenue, so, sur- 

( 53 ) 



"The House of Friendship 



veying the larger stage, the spectators applaud 
or smile as they meet the heroes and the come- 
dians of life. 

<a 18 s> 

KEEPING A FRIEND 

We cannot lose a friend whom we truly love, 
for that love itself is what makes the friendship. 
When you hear a woman say sorrowfully that 
her perfect friendship has been broken, her 
words reveal that it never was a complete rela- 
tionship. Her friend gave her affection, com- 
panionship, understanding, or whatever it was, 
and now that she has ceased to give it every- 
thing seems gone. But if the recipient had given 
affection, companionship, and understanding of 
such noble and endearing qualities that nothing 
could quench them, and if she still continues 
to give them, she is still loving, and she still 
has the best part of friendship. For what makes 
a friendship is what we put into it, not what 
we get out of it. The mother loves her child 
no matter how erring it may be: and from her 

( 54 ) ' 



The House of Friendship 



mother love comes her great happiness. The 
child who merely accepts the devotion knows 
nothing of such joy. 

And so it is with friends. The way to have 
a friend is to be one — the way to keep your 
friend is to continue to care for her no matter 
what she does or what she is. 

The people who are lonely in this world are 
those who are always looking for something to 
come to them ; they hope for pleasant adven- 
tures ; they exact much from their friends and 
from their family — and they are never satisfied. 
But the happy men and women are those who 
never think to demand for themselves — who 
give and give and give again, and find joy when- 
ever they find opportunity to give joy. 

The unhappiest wife is not the wife whose 
husband has ceased to love her ; it is the one 
who has ceased to love her husband. The discon- 
tented child is not the one for whom nothing is 
done by others, but who does nothing for others. 

The human heart is so constituted that it is 
only filled by the richness which flows from it 
— not by the richness which flows into it. 

( 55 ) 



The House of Friendship 



Does your friend neglect you ? Has her ap- 
parent enjoyment in your society cooled by im- 
perceptible degrees ? For every shade of cool- 
ness offer more of your warm affection — and 
you will find no longer discontent, but an ever- 
increasing satisfaction. Trying to warm our 
hearts by the affection which others bring us is 
like trying to warm a house by placing heated 
bricks against the outer walls ; the house must 
be warmed from within ; it must radiate heat, 
not absorb it. 

If you would have a friend, be one; if you 
would keep a friend, continue to love; for just so 
long as you do, you hold the choicest part of 
happiness. 

<& 19 s> 

THE MEDDLESOME WOMAN 

The scientist pins an insect to a card and then 
focuses his powerful microscope upon it and 
studies it, carefully, minutely, dispassionately. 
In somewhat the same manner it would be in- 
teresting to study the meddlesome woman — 

(56) 



The House of Friendship 



to dissect her and find out what makes her aet 
so. There will be no difficulty in finding speci- 
mens ! Even the poorest of us can procure a 
few choice ones, either in our immediate circle 
or in the community at large. 

The purely meddlesome woman is not nec- 
essarily malicious; she may not even be officious 
or disagreeable. The desire to interfere does not 
imply any other desire ; it is a special hunger, 
a unique craving. The woman who is consumed 
by the thirst to meddle is like a crazy man who 
wants to tickle every one he sees. 

How well we know her! She may be a maid 
in our kitchen, or a neighbor, or a member of 
the family, but whoever she is, and whatever 
her station, she is always itching to be " in " 
things, to be consulted, to receive confidences, 
to advise, to warn, to console. She goes into a 
home where every one is happy, and although 
she may be fond of each member of the family 
and glad that they are so harmonious, yet the 
very sight of them sets her on edge and whets 
her appetite. She tingles to drop a suggestion 
here or a hint there that will make them all at 

( 57 ) 



The House of Friendship 



sixes and sevens. She warns the mother to look 
out for her daughter ; she rouses a dozen vague 
fears in the father's breast. She simply cannot 
rest until she gets her finger in the family pie. 

In the office it is the same story. She sows 
secret seeds of alarm, of suspicion, of dissatis- 
faction — not because she really wants to make 
people unhappy, but because she hankers 
quenchlessly to be "in" everything. 

Nearly all of us except the phlegmatically 
stolid have felt this tantalizing appetite at times 
— this mischievous yearning to make trouble. 
But we have denied it, and therefore we can 
keep it within bounds. But the meddlesome 
woman has not denied it ; she has yielded to it, 
and now it consumes her like fire. 

We need not condemn her; that will do no 
good. We need not punish her; she suffers 
more than we. We can avoid her; we can be 
careful to give her no handle against us — no 
information which she may twist to our harm, 
no loophole through which she may creep. 
But, for the rest, we must pity her, as the vic- 
tim of any craving is to be pitied. 

(58 ) 



The House of Friendship 



If you feel this insidious thing growing within 
you, stamp it out. Refuse to gossip, to fish for 
scandal, to listen to dissensions. Go your own 
way and let other people go theirs. Take your- 
self in hand as sternly as if you were battling 
for life, or, before you realize it, you will find 
yourself devoured by an insatiable appetite that 
" grows by what it feeds on," and which will 
turn at last to feed upon yourself. 



<& 20 & 

THERE IS ALWAYS SOMETHING ELSE 

One very merciful arrangement in the regula- 
tion of this universe — an arrangement which 
takes us many years to appreciate — is that there 
is always something else. 

When we are young — young in years or 
young in experience — we declare, passionately, 
hotly, vehemently, that we want what we want 
when we want it ; there is nothing — no, ab- 
solutely nothing — that can take its place. But 
as we grow wiser we find that there is always 
something — not so good, not the same, per- 

( 59 ) 



The House of Friendship 



haps — but, still, something. You cannot have 
the hat you want, but you can have some sort 
of a head covering, and, after all, it is not of su- 
preme importance. Your dinner does not please 
you ; pork does not agree with you, and you do 
not like onions — well, there is always some- 
thing else, if it is only bread and butter. 

Perhaps you have a friend with whom you 
are most happily congenial ; your friendship 
means much to you ; you cannot imagine how 
you would endure life without it. And then 
something happens, the friendship is broken, 
and you survey the ruins and think, " Every- 
thing is gone ; there is nothing left in my life." 
But after a time — it may seem an eternity — 
you find that other flowers are growing in the 
garden you thought laid waste forever, and that 
your life is not empty after all. 

We cannot appreciate the consolation of this 
provision when we are on the heights or in the 
depths of an experience. We insist that we can 
never be happy again. But slowly, gradually, 
old wounds heal, old scars fade, and the bril- 
liancy of the sunset is followed by the calmness 

(60) 



The House of Friendship 



of the night. It is not the same thing that once 
was, to be sure, but it is something that has 
come to you. There are no vacuums in nature 
nor in human hearts. 

We are so sure that we know what we want, 
and we rebel bitterly when we cannot get it, 
or have to relinquish it. We want it so much 
that we think there is nothing else in all the 
world. But there is. Other birds come back to 
sing in our wind-blown trees ; other children 
come trooping to the deserted house ; other fires 
are lit upon the empty hearths ; and fresh rivu- 
lets trickle down parched channels. 

And we realize that we need not have suf- 
fered so terribly long ago if we had only believed 
then what we know now — that no matter what 
happens, there is always something else. 

<a 21 # 

THE DISAPPROVING ATTITUDE 

If you want to do the most disagreeable 
thing in the world cultivate an atmosphere of 
disapproval. This atmosphere is warranted to 

( 61 ) 



The House of Friendship 



kill good cheer, paralyze spontaneous endeavor, 
and throw all but the incurably optimistic into 
profoundest gloom. 

People who enfold themselves in the disap- 
proving attitude sometimes claim to be uncon- 
scious of it, and this is irritating, for every one 
else is so painfully conscious of it that it seems 
an unjust chance that the perpetrator alone 
should be spared. 

The attitude of disapproval is usually made 
manifest by a cold eye, a mouth drawn down at 
the corners, and a demeanor of congealed un- 
responsiveness. The possessors select for their 
habitat the bosom of some good-natured family 
— usually their own — or a respectable board- 
ing-house, for they would be suffered nowhere 
else. Their specialty is not in condemning any 
person nor any action in frank speech, but in 
casting around them a glance of chilly depre- 
cation that stops all cheerful conversation as 
effectually as a cork stops the flow of a bottle. 

Disapproving people are, as a rule, absolutely 
convinced that they are right and that you are 
wrong, and nothing could induce them to change 

(62) 



The House of Friendship 



their minds on this score. They are prone, also, 
to consider themselves more refined than other 
members of their family, or more pious, or 
whatever their desideratum may be. They do 
not reprove your words, but they decline to 
sanction them ; they do not censure your actions, 
but they disallow them ; they say nothing, but 
they look volumes. 

There are two kinds of disapproving persons; 
one is this way because it is her nature, her 
natural manner, and a habit hard to break. The 
other assumes the attitude because she considers 
it salutary. The first type is unfortunate; the 
second mistaken. Any one who thinks that one 
can cure, or change, or rectify, or improve an- 
other by an attitude of mute reproval is on an 
entirely wrong track. 

If you have a friend who is pursuing a course 
which you consider detrimental, you have sev- 
eral methods open to you. One is to go to her 
honestly and tell what you think and then say 
no more about it. Another is to ignore the cir- 
cumstance entirely. And another is to go and 
have a good old-fashioned row and "make up" 

(63) 



The House of Friendship 



or refuse to "makeup" according to your ideas 
on the subject. But to wrap one's self in a 
chill and forbidding mantle of silent reproach- 
fulness is enough to kill any affection in the 
world. 

If you are one of those mute, disapproving 
ones, here is something to remember : in the 
first place, nobody has the slightest idea what 
you are disapproving of ; and in the second, you 
are helping no one, enlightening no one, dis- 
ciplining no one ; you are forcing them to take 
their pleasure elsewhere, to confide their griefs 
and to share their pleasures with some one else. 
That is all. 

A disagreement is sometimes necessary; a 
sharp conflict may be stimulating; the truth 
must sometimes be delivered with emphasis ; 
but there is never any need for that most hate- 
ful and unhelpful of all weapons — the disap- 
proving attitude. 



(64) 



The House of Friendship 



<8- 22 -8> 
THE ALARMIST 

The alarmist is one of society's most active 
and busy caterers. She furnishes "sugar and 
spice and everything nice" for large social gath- 
erings, as well as for cozy tete-a-tetes. Her 
supply never runs out ; is always fresh, and 
guaranteed to give a thrill or a shudder to each 
recipient. 

The alarmist tells you that " the poor, dear 
Jameses are on the very verge of bankruptcy ; 
that Mrs. William Jenks looks badly — very 
badly ; and although we hate to admit it, it does 
seem like a decline. And would n't we think 
that Mrs. Bings would be worried to death 
about her son Billy? The child wriggles so ; he 
surely has something frightful the matter with 
his nerves — St. Vitus's dance probably. And 
as for Marcia Dingleberry, she will never, never 
in all this world get through college. She is a 
sweet girl, but she is n't quite bright." 

When the alarmist gets through with her 
resume of the living and the soon-to-be-dead, 

( 65 ) 



The House of Friendship 



the more susceptible of her listeners are in the 
cold shakes. 

The alarmist differs from the gossip, in that 
the gossip talks about any one and any thing, 
and is inclined to malice, but the solicitude of 
the alarmist is only aroused in the case of those 
precarious and uncertain individuals who seem 
about to topple over the precipice to ruin. 

An up-to-date alarmist, in good working 
order, can think up more distressing probabili- 
ties for her friends and acquaintances than can 
the most ingenious manager of the chamber of 
horrors. She is very fond of introducing the 
modern theory that every one is partially insane^ 
and of making startling personal application of 
it. Insidious and incurable diseases are also 
specialties with her, while impending financial 
and matrimonial disaster are steady wares. 

Life would have a tendency to become mo- 
notonous without the ministration of the alarm- 
ists. We would miss the exhilaration of the 
double shock of first hearing and then recover- 
ing from the information that we were on the 
verge of a nervous collapse, that our brother 

(66) 



The House of Friendship 



was going to elope with the candy-counter girl, 
and that our house was a perfect firetrap. All 
these exciting possibilities would be lost to us 
if it were not for the loud shriek of agitators. 

Alarmists are never, on any occasion, to be 
taken seriously, but occasionally it is rather 
diverting to let one of them open her pack like 
an insistent Eastern peddler, and see what va- 
riety and fantastic array of goods she can set be- 
fore us in the twinkling of an eye. And after 
we have smiled our "None to-day," and she 
has regretfully withdrawn her lurid temptations, 
we turn back to the sober room of daily living, 
a little relieved to find it still rather dull, and 
shabby, perhaps, but full of grateful stability 
and rest. 

<& 23 s> 

BROKEN PROMISES 

Only one who has accepted a promise and 
allowed faith to grow up about it, and then felt 
it break in time of stress, appreciates that sway- 
ing time of bewilderment and loss. The one 

(67) 



"The House of Friendship 



who breaks the promise does not feel the same 
shock, for her emotions are divided. The rea- 
son why she broke the promise was stronger 
than the reason why she made it, and her pre- 
liminary conflict has rendered the final crash 
less unexpected. Circumstances being what they 
are, and human nature being what it is, it was 
impossible for her to have acted any differently, 
she argues, and now she is ready for a fresh try. 
But the one toward whom the obligation has 
failed is not ready so quickly. If a friend says 
to you, " I will not tell," and then she does tell, 
it is impossible for you to believe her again im- 
mediately. You may love her just as much, you 
may want to trust her, but it is a psychological 
impossibility. She has not only torn up the 
flower which you planted together, but she has 
laid waste the soil. Before the flower of faith 
can bloom again, new ground must be found, 
new seed be sowed, and then the time abided 
for new flowers to grow. When the fortress of 
assurance has been leveled, one does not only 
have to begin at the beginning again, but one 
must carry away the old debris, fill up the old 

(68) 



The House of Friendship 



foundations, and go through the toil of clearing 
away the old ruin before even beginning on the 
new. 

If we realized how significant our promises 
were, we should probably make fewer and keep 
them better than we do. When once we give 
a pledge, we have given something of ourselves, 
and its acceptance implies the same generosity 
as opening the doors of a home to strangers. 
The stranger who betrays his hospitality not only 
closes the doors of entertainment to himself, 
but injures all who come after. 

The golden cord of our warranty which we 
extend to our friends is the most sacred thing 
we can proffer them, and if we snap it when 
other demands press, it is profaned for all time. 
When next we would offer it, it is tarnished 
and torn, and not even the most careless will 
put credence in it. 

The promise-breaker must begin all over 
every time. He must reestablish his credit 
whenever he wishes to use it. There is no con- 
tinuing city for him ; he is always at the begin- 
ning. Not because we do not wish to believe 

(6 9 ) 






The House of Friendship 



him, but because human instinct refuses to 
trust to a bridge that has once proved rotten. 

The man whose word is gold has won half 
the battle. of life. He has the confidence of his 
fellows, and that is one of the secrets of success. 
But the loose-mouthed are continually toiling 
upstream and against the wind. Even when we 
want to have confidence in them we cannot, 
and it is only when they have built a dozen 
bridges stronger than the one which gave way 
that we dare to venture forth again, and trust 
our weight to them. 

« 24 %> 
THE IMPULSIVE WOMAN 

An impulsive, open-hearted woman of forty 
was once asked what trait in her own character 
she would still hold to if she were to live her 
life over again, to which she promptly replied, 
" My impulsiveness. " The warm, quick impulse 
that makes the hand go out in sympathy, that 
pulls the dollars out of our pockets, that pricks 
our hearts into instant recognition of a need, is 

( 70 ) 



The House of Friendship 



something that cannot be bought or hired, but 
must be born in one, either by nature or by ad- 
miration. Life would be a very prosaic affair 
without these flashes of blue across the skies of 
every day, and if we waited until all our deeds 
of impulse were catalogued, listed, and defined 
before they were expressed, they would prob- 
ably never see the light. 

But the impulsive woman sometimes is rather 
unsatisfactory. When she feels like sending 
flowers, she sends them, but when you may feel 
like having flowers sent, she may never think of 
it. When your impulse coincides with some one 
else's impulse, all goes well, but when it conflicts 
with some one else's impulse, things go awry. 

The systematic person who trusts to a maxim 
rather than to an emotion may not be an inspi- 
ration, but she is a comfort. She brings order out 
of chaos and peace out of turmoil. In the office, 
at home, in society, everywhere, she is loved, 
respected, and relied upon. Her actions are 
based, not upon the volatile " feeling so," but 
upon the foundation of genuine consideration 
for others. 

( 71 ) 



The House of Friendship 



This cautious, deliberate type of woman, who 
seems to do what her head tells her is sensible 
rather than what her heart tells her is lovable^ 
may be irritating at times, but in the end she is 
a blessing. Her smile does not depend upon the 
weather, nor her good humor upon her diges- 
tion. Her spirits may not be brilliant, but they 
are very comforting. Her face may not sparkle 
with animation, but on the whole it is a pleas- 
ant expression that creeps about eyes that are 
always kindly, and about a mouth that never 
says the bitter thing. 

The impulsive woman has this advantage 
over the opposite type ; she is generally more 
attractive, superficially. All the world loves a 
warm greeting and a cordial manner, and a wo- 
man of moods is usually more fascinating in a 
certain way than a cool, staid one. 

And since the impulsive woman has this ad- 
vantage, why does she not go and win the race 
more often than she does, instead of seeing, as 
is frequently the case, the prize of social popu- 
larity and genuine affection fall to the quiet, 
methodical girl ? 

(72 ) 



The House of Friendship 



Is it not often because the girl who is blessed 
with a warm, quick nature does not use that na- 
ture, but lets it use her? What a pity she does 
not learn, from the woman who is only half as 
entertaining, that what the world wants is people 
who are thoughtful as well as people who are 
gay, and people who really care for the pleas- 
ure of others and not only for the response they 
get for themselves. 

Let your impulsiveness have full play, but 
when it lapses, — as impulsiveness is bound to 
do, — be sure you have a good store of old- 
fashioned and substantial virtues to fall back 
upon, for " after a woman's charm has won the 
battle, her character is the advancing standard/' 

<& 25 -8> 
UNIQUE EXPERIENCES 

Most of us enjoy believing, when any rather 
unusual experience comes to us, that no one in 
the whole world was ever quite so happy, or 
quite so miserable, or quite so perplexed as we 
are. There were never a pair of lovers in the 

( 73 ) 



The House of Friendship 



world who did not believe that they loved each 
other in a way that was peculiar, beautiful, unique. 
There never was a chronic invalid who did not 
secretly pride herself on being more frequently 
at death's door than any one else, and a little 
nearer that portal than is the common privilege. 
Every business woman is busier than any other ; 
every mother has more household duties than 
you ever heard of before — and so on through 
an endless category of occupations, experiences 
and joys and sorrows. 

There seems no reason why we should not 
extract whatever melancholy pleasure we may 
from the conviction that we are tremendously 
sensitive or terribly misunderstood, but it surely 
is the acme of egotism to refuse to acknowledge 
the idiosyncrasies of other people as well. 

There is a certain type of girl who is always 
having mysterious " affairs." You never get a 
very definite idea as to what these " affairs " are, 
but she firmly impresses upon you that they are 
different from the " affairs " of most girls ; that 
your " affairs " are probably poor commonplace 
things like everybody's, but that hers — well, 

( 74 ) 



The House of Friendship 



you couldn't understand what she was talking 
about even if she should try to explain. 

And yet, after all, this is quite an old world, 
and in all likelihood the entire gamut of human 
events and emotions has been run several times. 
The experience which has come to you — it may 
be one of shame, or hope, or sudden understand- 
ing, or swift calamity — came to Eve, probably, 
and has come to many of her daughters since. 
Why, that stupid-looking woman in the apart- 
ment below may be passing through the self-same 
waters of affliction that are overwhelming you. 

Your heart is as cold as stone because the fire 
that warmed it has flickered and gone out. You 
are chilled with grief, and it does not make it 
less poignant to be told that joy has fled from 
many women. All you realize is that it has fled 
from you and that you are suffering. Your own 
experience is real, and there is nothing to be 
gained from undervaluing it. But there is much 
to be gained by valuing that of other people as 
well, and when their joys depart from them to 
give them the tribute of believing in the utter- 
ness of their sorrow. 

( 75 ) 



The House of Friendship 



You are happy ; you have found some secret 
key that unlocks many treasures. You must not 
think it is nothing because others have found 
that key before. Only when, later, you will see 
some one else who is also happy, give her 
credit in your mind and in your heart for find- 
ing as true a key and unlocking as real treasures 
as those of yours. 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
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